The Resurrection of Christ

Hosanna to the prince of Light,

That cloth'd himself in clay;

Enter'd the iron gates of death,

And tore the bars away!

Death is no more the King of dread,

Since our immanuel rose;

He took the tyrant's sting away,

And spoil'd our hellish foes.

See how the Conqu'ror mounts aloft,

And to his Father flies,

With scars of honour in his flesh

And triumph in his eyes.

There our exalted Saviour reigns,

And scatters blessings down;

Our Jesus fills the middle seat

Of the celestial throne.

[Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,

To reach his bless'd abode;

Sweet be the accents of your songs

To our incarnate God.

Bright Angels, strike your loudest strings,

Your sweetest voices raise;

Let heav'n and all created things,

Sound our Immanuel's praise.]